


Scintillation

by OpheliaAlexiou



Series: Tales of War: Ares [2]
Category: Hellenistic Religion & Lore
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Consensual, Consensual Kink, Consensual Sex, Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Gender Roles, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Homoeroticism, Homoromantic, Homosexuality, Kissing, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Oral Sex, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Scratching, Spanking, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 19:36:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9563423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpheliaAlexiou/pseuds/OpheliaAlexiou
Summary: Ares aids a young trans male living in the city of Troy, on the fringes of the heartland of the Hellenic Empire, in the 117th year of the Common Era.





	

Andronika, daughter of Adelphos, stood on a high hill outside of Troy, and thought about the world she lived in. The Empire of the Hellenes spanned the breadth of the known world, or very nearly so. From the western sea to the eastern sea, to vassal states that spanned two continents further, the will of the Empire was everywhere that she knew to exist. The world was still fraught with certain perils, creatures that emerged from Khaos, bandits and raiders that defied the will of the gods, at times, machinations of opponents of Olympus against the Olympian order. Her father refused to let her travel, despite the immense number of women who travelled the world safely, some of whom had even transformed the world around them into a better place, women like Klymene.

 

'They were the daughters of the gods, Andronika, you are a mortal woman born of a mortal mother and a mortal father,' was the answer her father was always keen to remind her of, despite all her hard work and training. Against his wishes, and with approval from the priests at the Temple, she'd studied the arts of war at the Temple of Ares, and had become one of the best archers, swordfighters, and spear-wielders, in all of Troy. Many were the men who could not compete with her, or could not perform superior to her, though she remained deeply distraught and unhappy with the conditions of her life. Not exclusively because of the fact that she was stonewalled in every direction when she sought to find a way to use her abilities, but due to certain words used to describe her. Collections of letters such as she, or her, or woman, or daughter, when none were right or accurate to describe her.

 

“Ares, I am at the limits of my research, the extent of my ability to change the circumstances of my life. I cannot will myself to the growth of the missing parts, nor will away the parts that should not be here,” the feminine voice rising from her throat called softly into the wind, as eyes of deep green looked skyward under a mane of seal-brown hair that fell to her waistline. Her parents objected to shortening it, refused to let her have it cut, yet another feminization she was granted no authority at all to reject.

 

The wind brushed across the smooth skin of Andronika's face, and eyes of myrtle green caught sight of a red vulture soaring high in the sky overhead. A symbol she knew well: the vulture was a symbol of Ares, her god, and a red vulture the emissary of her god, a symbol of his attention. Even so, it may have been an indicator of his attention, but it was not an instruction, or an indication of what he wanted her to do, precisely.

 

Even as she watched the vulture circle three times, then vanish behind a cloud not to be seen again, she could not identify an instruction from the movements. Her eyes fell to the ground again, and Andronika blinked anew, as she discovered standing in front of her, a large hound, with a deep reddish-brown coat, as large as a small mule. She remained still, as she was aware that hounds were also a symbol of Ares, and watched as the hound approached, circled, then brought his head to her feet and nipped at the straps of her sandals.

 

“You want me to remove them?” The hound pulled back several steps, and barked once; nodding in answer, Andronika knelt on one knee and unlaced one sandal, then switched and unlaced the other, setting both to the side. Standing once more, eyes followed the hound as it circled again, then bit the hem of her dress, and pulled once but sharply. When she offered a nod, in response, the hound stepped back once more, and Andronika unlaced the dress bought by her father, which he insisted of her to wear. The hound circled, once more, then bit and yanked on her smallclothes, ripping the cord and jerking his head to one side to strip off the overly feminine garment and toss it on the grass. She remained still, as the hound circled around in front of her, and she noted the hound was neither male nor female, as it reared up and placed paws on her shoulders, biting at that small bit of cloth she still wore, covering her breasts. The hound ripped it off, jerked his head to the side, then dropped, and withdrew several steps once more, as Andronika now stood nude on the hilltop, mostly voluntarily but entirely consensually. Ares was watching, and Andronika was happily a loyal servant to his will.

 

Abruptly, she felt firm hands, masculine hands, cupping the curvature of her rump, and she jumped faintly, gasping slightly in surprise, and the hound vanished. She closed her eyes and waited, feeling the hands sliding over her skin, and enjoying an answering sensation they generated within the body as hands soon cupped her breasts. Andronika could feel a hard, phallic muscle against her rump, and she leaned herself submissively against the one she knew was there.

 

“You want these gone?”

 

“Yes,” Andronika breathed the word subserviently. Fingers squeezed her breasts hard, pain shooting through nerve-endings, and with it a shiver of arousal and desire.

 

“You like roughness?”

 

“Yes,” Andronika whispered the word breathlessly.

 

“You want to be my boy?”

 

“Yes!” the word left firm lips in a soft gasp of desire.

 

“Say my name, boy,” the voice whispered firmly behind Andronika, into one ear.

 

“Ares...”

 

“You want to be my beautiful boy?”

 

“Yes, Ares,” Andronika answered submissively, noticing the subtle shrinking of breasts beneath the hands of her god, and an associated smoothing of the plane of the chest, the increasing visibility of muscle.

 

“My masculine little slut?”

 

“Yes, please, Ares,” Andronika confirmed quietly.

 

“I think your father named you wrong. I shall have to give you a proper name,” Ares whispered, before abruptly and harshly turning Andronika's body to face him, “how rough do you want it, slut?”

 

“As rough as you wish it, my lord,” Andronika started, before noting the shimmer of Ares' eyes, “Very rough, my lord.”

 

“Good boy. From now on, your name is Atreus, and you will answer to no other name, save for to answer to slut and whore, which shall be your only names during our unions,” Ares instructed, then kissed them firmly on the lips, sending a rippling wave of red light glittering across the flesh, metamorphic in nature. As Ares held the young man in his iron grip, femininity gave way to masculinity, breasts and slit gave way to a cock and testicles, a large and healthy endowment befitting a warrior of the skill Ares knew Atreus to possess.

 

“Thank you, my lord,” Atreus whispered as the kiss was broken, and Ares' eyes fixed on his own.

 

“You are mine, and you may call me by my name; you, as few others, shall be my boy. You will live a life of heroism and of adventure, you will bring justice and you will be fearless. You will fuck your lovers as hard as they wish it, and shall father young of your own, someday, but for all the days of your life, you will be my whore.” As he spoke, Ares brought his hands up Atreus' body from his ass to his shoulders, his nails leaving bright red lines from the ass to the shoulder blades.

 

“Gladly, Ares,” Atreus whispered subserviently, eyes shimmering faintly with overwhelmed, overjoyed agreement to such a proposition. Ares' grip on his shoulders became firmer and pushed.

 

“Then get on your knees, slut,” Ares ordered, and Atreus sank to his knees before his god, “and worship your god.” Even as knees touched to the grass, Atreus lifted his arms around Ares' hips, leaning in and enthusiastically licking and kissing at the immense cock that stood before his face, marvelling at the wonderful size of it. Finally relinquishing his virginity, as a man, Atreus had no regrets, worshipping Ares' cock with his mouth, never taking it into his mouth without permission but even so lavishing it with loving attention.

 

“Feel your own cock, boy,” Ares ordered, and one hand travelled down Ares' thigh and calf, before jumping over to his own thigh, then tentatively inward, until fingertips touched it for the first time. Eyes closed and as they did, Ares' hand in his hair tightened and with a sharp movement, shoved his cock into Atreus' mouth as Atreus wrapped his fingers around his own for the first time, beginning to stroke himself as he knelt for his god. He was amazed to discover how large a shaft Ares graced him with, the ten-inch length standing proudly from his hips as he knelt as his god's slut and sucked obediently.

 

“Suck it, you little whore, suck it like the noblemen and noblewomen will suck yours,” Ares encouraged gruffly, Atreus had been clear on wanting it rough and Ares would respect that, but that didn't mean he had to be a dismissive ass, or anything.

 

When Ares' cock started to pulse, his grip on Atreus' hair tightened and he began to fuck his mouth harder and faster, letting his hips hammer against Atreus' mouth and throat. The kneeling boy's eyes watered as he started to cough and choke around Ares' twelve-inch shaft, but he continued to moan firmly and one hand continued to travel up and down the shaft of his own cock fast and hard. Even as Ares pulled back and released a thick spray onto Atreus' face, one hand still tightly in his hair to hold his head in place, Atreus groaned as his own release surged out onto the grass.

 

Ares slid around behind him, oiling his cock and Atreus' ass with his divine abilities, and thrusting in hard, causing Atreus to arch and gasp in answer. Atreus bucked firmly, until a loud crack resonated from between them as Ares brought a hand onto his ass and spanked him hard.

 

“Mm!” groaned Atreus in answer, shivering in pleasure as fingers clenched grass and earth, as Ares began to fuck him hard, biting his lip as he felt Ares' hands cracking down on his rump or clawing his back. The marks were beginning to show clear on his back and his ass, before Ares rotated him on his cock and slammed his back down against the earth, fucking him hard face-to-face, leaning down against him and biting the nape of his neck.

 

“Oh... Ares!” moaned Atreus in reply, as Ares hammered into him with continued vigor and desire, before thrusting in to the hilt one last time as lips touched Atreus' lips once more.

 

“You will require armour and weapons. Your father outfitted you poorly, and he clearly lacked appropriate appreciation for the needs of a true warrior,” Ares whispered into his ear, pushing up on one hand from him and pulling his helmet free from his head with the other. He clapped it down firmly onto Atreus' head, then lowered and kissed him once more, while his left hand travelled down over Atreus' chest. Fingernails clawed their way down it, soliciting a softly-moaning arching in answer, from Atreus beneath him, before with a clap of his hand on Atreus' chest, summoning armour befitting a warrior as Ares slid himself free of his newest lover's ass.

 

Fingers twined with fingers, and as he rose, Ares pulled Atreus with him, still nude himself though he summoned armour for his newest lover. Once his lover was newly armoured, worthless garments of the woman that wasn't left upon the grassy hill where they could no longer restrain or shackle anyone, Ares nodded. A hand rose, and he drew to his hand the weapons from Troy that belonged most lawfully to Atreus – a longbow, and quiver full of arrows, a great boar-spear, and a trusted, deadly sword, all fashioned by experts and furnished by Troy's own Temple of Ares.

 

“Go forth, now, Atreus. Your journey awaits.”

 

Atreus lowered to a knee, bowing his head, then lifted his eyes as he leaned forward, and kissed Ares' cock gently, before he spoke to his god, “Thank you, Ares.”

 

Then, Atreus rose and turned, and strolled from the hillock to begin the journey that Ares granted him. As he did, Ares faded into a mist that vanished from the air like steam caught in a strong breeze.

 


End file.
